


Cosmically Bound

by Antimatics



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, M/M, Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn, Porn With Plot, Sharing a Bed, Time Travel, wholesome porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antimatics/pseuds/Antimatics
Summary: While on a diplomatic mission with his Master, Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn settles in to meditate. He opens his eyes to find himself in the same place as before, but decades into the future.In the middle of the Clone Wars.He's not sure what's going on, but this 'General Kenobi' certainly isn't too hard on the eyes.-Master Obi-Wan Kenobi gets a com about a spare Padawan that Waxer and Boil found on a scouting mission. Last he checked, he hadn't heard anything about any missing Padawans...
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 102





	Cosmically Bound

Sent by the Council on a diplomatic mission to assist a local settlement in peace negotiations, Master Dooku and his Padawan learner, Qui-Gon Jinn, took shelter for the night in what appeared to be the ruins of some ancient village. They had been traveling on foot through one of the planet’s dense forests for the entire day, unable to land their ship any closer to their destination. All that was left now of what was once a vast and sprawling archaic city were the crumbling remains of stone walls, roofs caved in by the elements long ago. The low walls served as a poor makeshift barrier between themselves and the rain carried along on the wind like sharp needles.

The trees of the old growth forest they had found themselves trekking through for the past day crowded close and grew tall, the light of the planet’s sun barely reaching the forest floor. By the time night had fallen and it had begun to rain, the world around them was pitched in thick shadow, and they’d had to seek shelter as quickly as possible.

Their campsite was a miserable thing, but Qui-Gon couldn’t find it in himself to be too bothered by it. The Living Force on this planet was so strong and rich that he’d spent the entire day entirely to cheerful for his dour Master’s tastes. Master Dooku certainly didn’t appreciate their assignment as much as his young Padawan and didn’t appear to be quite as enthusiastic as Qui-Gon was about having to spend the night without adequate shelter.

Meditation was much easier to find than sleep that night, the lull of the Living Force dragging Qui-Gon into a deep meditative state as his Master attempted to sleep nearby.

Qui-Gon was so deep in his meditation that he didn’t notice the rain stop, or the way the dark night around their camp lit up with a soft golden light. Runes, hidden before beneath the moss and dirt shrouding the cracked stone, began to glow and heat as the young Jedi communed with the Force.

Something seemed to brush up against the edges of Qui-Gon’s mind. The presence felt sentient and it felt _old_ , pressing at his shields insistently, as if trying to find a flaw in his defenses.

Qui-Gon flinched, attempting to pull himself out of meditation and away from this strange and unwelcome intruder. The presence only conveyed a vague sense of amusement at his struggle, coiling tighter around his mind and refusing to allow his awareness back to the surface of his mind.

Oddly, it didn’t feel particularly malicious. If anything, it felt gentle, welcoming in the way it kept him submerged in the still lake of his own mind, where concerns like panic and worry slipped away from him as easily as they came. He felt like a spectator in his own head, recognizing the foreign presence beginning to seep in past his shields, but unable to do anything about it.

On the inside, Qui-Gon was swiftly losing his brief battle with the sentient life energy inhabiting the ruins. On the outside, he sat as still as ever in his meditation, serene as could be.

Darkness fell again in the forest as it fell in Qui-Gon’s mind. The glowing runes going dark just as the presence fully breached his shields. It overwhelmed him all at once, a heady feeling as strong in the Living Force as anything he’d ever felt, carrying his consciousness in a strong riptide deeper still into the depths of his own mind.

He felt as if he’d blacked out for a moment.

Hands reached around Qui-Gon’s shoulders and dragged him up to prop him against cool, hard stone. He must’ve fallen over or fallen asleep, but for the life of him Qui-Gon couldn’t recall anything past settling down to meditate as his Master slept.

“Come on, wake up. Can you hear me?” He didn’t recognize the voice or the lifeforce energy of the person who’d helped him sit up.

Qui-Gon tried to open his eyes but shut them again just as swiftly, unprepared for the sharp sting of sunlight assaulting his senses. The light was far too bright, and somewhere in his sluggish thoughts he realized it was far brighter than it ought to be in woods as dense as these. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes, an undignified groan of pain escaping his lips as he managed to wake up a bit more. Suddenly all too aware of the pounding headache threatening to split open his skull.

A boot nudged at his leg, “What’s he doing here? Do you think he’s a local?”

He squinted up through the sunlight and was just able to make out the blurry shapes of two soldiers in white armor before him. One crouched in front of him, seemingly checking the back of Qui-Gon’s head for injuries, and the other stood just behind the first.

The kneeling soldier batted at his companion, making him take a couple of steps back from Qui-Gon, “Don’t kick him, Waxer. He’s obviously not a local you idiot, the natives of this planet have fur.”

“Then what’s he doing here?”

“How am I supposed to know? This area’s supposed to be deserted!”

Qui-Gon’s eyes darted between the pair and he tried to sit up a bit straighter, pain shooting up the back of his neck at the action. “I’m sorry, who are you? Where’s Master Yan?”

The standing soldier cocked his head, “Were there supposed to be other _Jetti_ on this planet? That’s what his odd little braid is for, right?”

The soldier still crouched before him looked up sharply at his companion, “What’s one of their shinies doing out here alone? Kriff, I think we should com General Kenobi.”

Qui-Gon attempted to draw his legs up under him to stand, unsettled by the strangers and confused as to what was going on. His head throbbed, and it was far too bright out. Hadn’t it just been raining? And nighttime? Where was his master?

He was halted by a firm hand on his chest, “Where do you think you’re going? It’s dangerous out here, sir. We’ll take you back to the camp with us.”

Qui-Go was tempted to reach for the lightsaber at his hip but stopped himself when the strange press of the Force came again, this time washing him in a wave of calm. For whatever reason, he wasn’t meant to fight them, and who was he to go against the will of the Force?

Whatever was happening, be it a strange dream or real, it must be happening for a reason. At least, he hoped it was.

Qui-Gon was about to speak, to at least try and gather more information about what might be going on, when he finally took a look around and realized why the world was so bright around them.

What had once been a crowded, wild forest filled with ancient, towering trees and undergrowth so thick they’d had to fight their way through with their sabers just to be able to traverse it, was now entirely gone.

Whatever had happened between the time Qui-Gon had closed his eyes to meditate and now, the forest had vanished. All around them was a vast, barren field. Nothing left of the landscape but rust-red dirt and charred, wilting scrub clinging to the rocky soil at odd intervals.

Qui-Gon would’ve thought he’d somehow ended up on another planet entirely if not for the familiar, if a bit more crumbled, grey stone of the ruins they’d sheltered in sticking out of the dirt around them. That, and the undeniable feeling in the Force that yes, this was the same planet he and his master had been sent to. What could explain this phenomenon? Where was Master Dooku?

It seemed, for now, that his only real course of action was to go with the soldiers and see if he could find out what was going on.

He held his hands up in peace, “Of course. I mean neither of you any harm, are you taking me to this ‘General Kenobi’, then?” Qui-Gon tried to take a step back but staggered as his vision blurred and his head throbbed in protest once again.

The hand on his chest moved to wrap around his upper arm to steady him. “Kriff, he’s bleeding. Let’s get him to medical and com the General from there.”

Qui-Gon shook his head in an attempt to clear his vision and touched his face, hand coming away stained crimson from his apparent nosebleed. The pair of soldiers moved to stand on either side of him.

“Do you think you can walk alright, sir? It’s not far to the camp, we’re just over that ridge.” One of the soldiers gestured to their right, where the bleak landscape rose imperceptibly against the horizon.

Qui-Gon took a couple slow steps in that direction, legs unsteady but well enough to walk on his own. The soldiers walked alongside him, matching the slow pace he set for their journey. “I should be alright to walk on my own, though I thank you for your assistance.”

The walk was undoubtedly much longer that it would’ve been for the soldiers without Qui-Gon slowing them down, but they never complained. Each time he would stumble, one of them would keep him from falling, and though they were strangers, they felt welcoming in the Force, safe.

The camp was bustling with activity, all around were soldiers wearing the same unfamiliar white armor as Qui-Gon’s two companions. A group of them were working through what appeared to be some type of exercise regimen just outside the camp. As they walked, they passed many more soldiers gathered around fires, cleaning their blasters, or tending to their armor.

Several soldiers called out greetings as they passed, many more turning to look curiously at Qui-Gon as the trio passed by. He supposed he did stand out, a head or so taller than any of the soldiers they passed, dressed in his Jedi robes that served as quite the contrast to the sharp white edges of their armor.

It took Qui-Gon longer than it should’ve to realize what the soldiers were. Hardly any of the soldiers settled in the camp wore their helmets, and Qui-Gon blamed his rather distracting headache and overall confusion at his predicament for how long it took him to notice. All the faces they passed were the same. Exactly the same, but for their variety of hairstyles, tattoos, and paint decorating their armor. Maybe it took him so long to realize because each soldier felt like such a strong individual in the Force. Master Dooku always did say he relied too much on his affinity with the Living Force.

“You’re all clones?” Qui-Gon said, tact evidently evading him in the state he was in.

His guides both stared at him for a long moment, “Of course, sir. This is the 212th Attack Battalion under General Kenobi, the 501st is here as well. General Skywalker and Commander Tano insisted we set up camp together.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t manage to hide the distaste in his expression, “I see.” What kind of leader sent clones to do their dirty work?

They didn’t speak until they made it to the medical tent at the heart of the sprawling camp. The tent was much larger than the rest, dozens of wounded soldiers resting on sleeping rolls lay inside. Qui-Gon was led to the back of the tent where another clone was finishing dressing an unconscious soldier’s head wound.

“Kix, we found this _Jetti_ kid out in the field. Something’s wrong with his head. Could you take a look at him while we try and get ahold of the General?”

The clone, presumably a medic of some sort, paused to stare at Qui-Gon with a sort of confused, unsettled expression. He set aside the roll of gauze and the tube of bacta he had been holding, standing to address Qui-Gon’s companions, “You don’t just ‘find’ strange _Jetti_ kids out in the middle of a warzone, Waxer. What makes you think he’s a _Jetti_?”

The clone, Waxer, apparently, shrugged and gestured towards Qui-Gon’s Padawan braid, “He’s got the funny hair and everything! Asked for a ‘Master Yan’ – do we know any _Jetti_ by that name?”

The medic – Kix, he’d been called – rolled his eyes and gestured for Qui-Gon to take a seat on an empty bedroll. “Let’s take a look at you, then.” He tilted his head towards Waxer and his companion, “You’d better hurry and get General Kenobi down here, something seems strange about this whole thing.” Back to Qui-Gon, “What’d you say your name was?”

Qui-Gon dipped his head in an awkward sort of bow, “Padawan Learner Qui-Gon Jinn, at your service.”

-

Obi-Wan stepped away from his conversation with Cody to answer his com. “Waxer? Boil? I trust you made it back to camp safely?” The pair had been sent out along with a couple other teams of troopers to scout the area and make sure the perimeter of their camp was secure.

“Yes sir, but we found something- ouch! Some _one_ I mean. While we were scouting. He was unconscious, just laying out in the middle of the dirt.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, “A local? Did you help him?”

A brief pause, “Well…” A jostling sound like one of them was fighting the other to get ahold of the comlink.

“General Kenobi. He’s saying he’s a Jedi Padawan. We brought him back to medical to get his head injury treated. We thought it best to contact you before we did anything else.”

Obi-Wan blinked, confusion settling in his mind. He automatically turned to start walking towards the Medical Tent, “A Padawan? Out here of all places? Did he say what he’s doing here?” Obi-Wan tried to run through a mental list of Master and Padawan pairs that would be assigned to nearby systems. As far as he knew it was only himself, Anakin, and Ahsoka in this region of space right now.

“Er, no sir. He did ask for a ‘Master Yan’, though, if that’s a name you recognize? We weren’t sure who he meant.”

He froze, spine going stiff as he heard who this mystery Padawan was asking for. Certainly not Yan _Dooku_ of all people? Count Dooku, the very reason they were here on this planet, trying to stop his forces from laying waste to anymore of the once-beautiful planet’s landscape with his bombs. Count Dooku, who had ordered the deaths of thousands of the planet’s natives and the destruction of their cities?

“I’ll be right there.” He started back up towards medical, hurrying now, “Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Yes, sir.”

Obi-Wan met Waxer and Boil just outside of the tent. The pair stood alert, hands on their blasters in case their guest tried to make a run for it.

He stopped before entering the tent, turning to the troopers, “Did he say what his name was?”

Boil gave a curt nod, “Qui-Gon Jinn, sir. Does that mean anything to you?”

It was as if all of the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of the atmosphere. Obi-Wan was only distantly aware that Boil was still speaking to him, that they were starting to look at him with worried expressions.

Instinctively, he reached out with the force towards the inhabitants of the tent. Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of that familiar presence he found waiting within. A sort of choked gasp escaped Obi-Wan’s lips and he took a staggered step back from the entrance, covering his mouth.

He shook his head, “This must be some sort of trick.”

Waxer and Boil looked alarmed. “Sir?”

Obi-Wan surged forward, pushing aside the flaps of the tent and storming down the narrow path between the injured trooper’s beds.

He stopped.

There, sitting atop the blanket of the very last bed, was a face he hadn’t seen in over a decade. Eyes closed and expression serene. Impossibly long legs folded under himself as he meditated.

Hot tears pricked at the corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes, he couldn’t seem to look away.

There was a distant sort of ringing in his ears. He sunk to his knees, shaking hands fighting between reaching towards the other man or remaining locked at his sides.

“Qui-Gon?” It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Was the Force so kind and so cruel? To take his Master away from him before he’d even completed his training and to give him back now, of all times?

The man in front of him was younger than Obi-Wan had ever known him, face too smooth and untouched by time. His hair was cropped short but for the long Padawan braid resting against his chest and so much lighter in shade than Obi-Wan had ever seen it.

Just the same, it was him. Qui-Gon Jinn. Inexplicably, impossibly, improbably. But it rang true in the Force, the old training bond between them that had been so abruptly shattered back on Naboo flared with new life. Delicate strands of golden energy that bound their souls across time and space.

A million questions flickered through Obi-Wan’s mind, but more than anything, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of warmth and peace emanating across their once-dead bond.

Startlingly blue eyes fluttered open and met his stare. Obi-Wan was suddenly conscious of the odd picture he must make, all but collapsed on the floor of the tent before him, gaping and looking as if he might cry.

Too late to make a better first impression, Obi-Wan still forced himself back behind his calm, serene Jedi Master façade. He straightened out his posture and bowed his head in greeting, “Greetings, Padawan Jinn. I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

An achingly familiar smile tugged at Qui-Gon’s lips, “Oh? I think I would have remembered seeing _you_ around the temple, Master Kenobi.” He took a moment to slowly drag his eyes over the entirety of Obi-Wan’s form.

Obi-Wan felt his face flush red. He spent a few precious seconds trying to find words, _any_ words at all.

“Ah, well,” He cleared his throat, “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. Could you tell me what happened to you before Waxer and Boil found you?”

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. He shook his head regretfully, “I woke when they found me. All I can remember from before that was meditating. I’m meant to be on assignment with Master Yan. Ah, I mean Master Dooku.” A soft pink blush dusted his high cheekbones, “I really only call him Master Yan because he doesn’t like it. Anyways, we were on a mission to assist the locals in drafting a peace treaty between their warring villages.” Qui-Gon’s voice was just as deep and calm as Obi-Wan remembered, like the cool depths of an ocean. Not that that was what Obi-Wan was supposed to be focused on at the moment.

He furrowed his brow and stared at a point on the ground between them, attempting to focus on the matter at hand instead of letting himself get sidetracked by the sight of his Master – his Master the _Padawan_ – before him. “I see. I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before. Could you tell me what the planet looked like when you arrived with Master Dooku?” He almost fumbled over referring to Dooku as ‘Master’ – any respect he’d once held for his Grandmaster long since gone.

Qui-Gon’s eyes widened as he sorted through his memories of the past day. “What happened to this place, Master Kenobi? We spent the day walking through the most beautiful and _alive_ forest I’ve ever gotten to visit. The trees were so old and so tall that the sunlight barely reached the forest floor. When I woke up it was…” He looked somewhat pained as his memory of the sudden _lack_ in the Living Force he’d felt when he’d regained consciousness. “Gone. Almost completely.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkled in sympathy, knowing what the man who’d once been his Master must have felt. “I know, Padawan. It’s terrible, isn’t it? This planet, like so many others, has been torn apart by war. I’m afraid the sacred woods are no longer. A weapon was detonated nearby only a month or so ago. It’s designed to wipe out all organic forms of life within its blast radius.”

Through the remains of their bond, Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s revulsion at such a concept. He placed a hand on Qui-Gon’s own before he could speak.

“I know. The thing is, Padawan Jinn, whether by will of the Force or some powers unknown to me, it would seem you’ve been sent into the future.” There was no simple way to break the news, and no way to hide it from the younger man.

Qui-Gon grew deathly still and stared deep into Obi-Wan’s eyes. He didn’t speak for a moment.

Another moment.

“Qui-Gon?”

A humorless bark of laughter escaped Qui-Gon, he tore his gaze away from Obi-Wan’s and stared at the Jedi Masters hand, still resting atop his own. “Oh.”

Obi-Wan started to pull his hand away, aware that the touch may be unwelcome.

Qui-Gon caught his hand before he could go very far and tugged him closer, causing Obi-Wan to sway a little too close into Qui-Gon’s space to be entirely polite. “What do we do, then, Master Kenobi?” Qui-Gon held onto Obi-Wan like a lifeline, not entirely conscious of his actions in his distressed state.

Obi-Wan set his jaw, the shock of Qui-Gon Jinn of all people looking to him for guidance was somewhat unsettling. But strange as it was, _he_ was the Master in this situation, wasn’t he? The one who was meant to have answers for Padawans who needed his help.

“Well, I suppose we should contact the Council. And find you something to eat. I’m no expert on time travel, but I’d imagine being sent decades into the future might work up a bit of an appetite.” He stood, glad to have some semblance of a plan in place. He kept Qui-Gon’s hand in his, though whether that was to offer a sense of stability to the Padawan or to indulge in his own happiness derived from contact with his old Master, he didn’t care to examine.

Qui-Gon followed after Obi-Wan, rising to his feet in one fluid motion, balance restored after an application of bacta and a short meditation session to heal his injured head. “The Council?”

Obi-Wan had never heard such a _petulant_ tone from his master before and found it to be adorable, “Yes, the Council. I’m a member of the Council as well, you know, Padawan Jinn.”

Qui-Gon took a step forward to follow Obi-Wan out of the tent and Obi-Wan found himself entirely distracted by how tall Qui-Gon was. It was of course impossible to forget the sheer height and _width_ of a man like Qui-Gon, but just as he’d been as a Padawan himself, Obi-Wan found himself startled by it. Especially now that he was the one meant to be the Master and Qui-Gon the young Padawan in his charge.

Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan with a somewhat recalcitrant expression that quickly took on a bit of a mischievous edge, “ _You’re_ on the Council? I thought they only let old, cranky, stuffy Masters on the council. You’re far too pretty to be a Council member.”

Obi-Wan was sure his face had turned a brilliant shade of red, “I’m plenty old, cranky, and stuffy enough for the Council.”

“Ah, but much prettier than Master Yoda, you are.”

They’re out in the now golden evening light before Obi-Wan can attempt to craft any sort of response to that. If Qui-Gon could stop calling him _pretty_ for one moment maybe he could think. Force, of all the things to happen to Obi-Wan, he’d never imagine he’d be witnessing – let alone being the recipient of – such shameless flirting from him former Master. Granted, his former Master was currently a Padawan that couldn’t be any older than Anakin, but it was still a strange experience.

Strange, and unfortunately for Obi-Wan’s frazzled nerves, a not altogether unwelcome experience.

Waxer and Boil are still waiting for them outside medical and stood at attention as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exited the tent.

“General Kenobi, is everything alright?” Boil inquired politely at the same time as Waxer spoke.

Waxer glanced at where their hands were still clasped together, “Are you guys holding hands?”

Boil elbowed Waxer somewhat viciously in the ribs and shot him a glare. Both men had taken off their helmets and held them tucked at their side under their arms.

Qui-Gon dropped Obi-Wan’s hand and Obi-Wan immediately released the odd stab of disappointment he’d felt at the loss into the Force.

Obi-Wan smiled at the bickering pair, ignoring Waxer’s question, “All is well, Boil. You two can go find something to eat, thank you for your assistance.”

The troopers left them, still quarrelling as they went. Obi-Wan smiled fondly after them.

“You care for them.” Qui-Gon observed, letting Obi-Wan lead him through the camp.

Obi-Wan made a noise of surprise, “Of course I do, I care about all my men.”

A vague sense of approval drifted across the bond that Obi-Wan savored a bit too much. “Good. The idea of an army made up entirely of clones…” Qui-Gon trailed off and gazed at the troopers they passed, “I could see people treating them as less than human is all.”

Obi-Wan frowned, setting his shoulders back, “There are far too many that do. Too many that don’t appreciate the sacrifice these men make in the name of the Republic.”

Things were somewhat quiet between them for the rest of their walk. They made it to Obi-Wan’s tent and Obi-Wan went about informing the Council of their strange situation. None of them have ever heard of such a thing either, though the few of them that remained at the temple offered to look into the matter it for him. He was instructed to keep Qui-Gon close, and to avoid telling him anything that could jeopardize the timeline as a precaution.

“We have a training bond.” Qui-Gon stated as soon as Obi-Wan ended his call with the council.

Speaking of things that might jeopardize the timeline.

Obi-Wan avoided Qui-Gon’s gaze, rummaging through his supply pack to pull out a couple of ration bars, “It seems we do.”

Qui-Gon had sat on the floor of Obi-Wan’s tent as he’d spoken to the Council to try and meditate. Obi-Wan settled across from him and handed him his food. Qui-Gon turned it over in his hands, staring at it in consideration, “I was your master then?” He looked up and caught Obi-Wan’s reluctant gaze, “And something happened? I know you can’t tell me anything it’s just… I can feel the old pain there, like the bond was ripped apart instead of broken in your Knighting Ceremony as it was supposed to be.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders jerked upward in a sort of aborted shrug. He tried to keep his face neutral, “Something happened, yes.”

“Something about the bond feels tainted. Wrong. Like – “ Qui-Gon’s youthful features openly conveyed his fear, “Like it was touched by the Darkside. I didn’t… Did I – “ He couldn’t seem to find it in himself to complete his query.

Obi-Wan shook his head hurriedly and touched Qui-Gon’s shoulder, “No! You didn’t Fall. You could never have Fallen.” Heat pricked at the corners of his eyes, “You were the best of us.”

They silently picked at their ration bars. Obi-Wan remembered complaining when they’d have to eat them on longer missions back when he was a Padawan. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Since the Clone Wars had begun, it was almost all he’d had to eat. The taste never grew any more palatable, but there were far bigger things to worry about these days.

“What the _kriff_? I thought they were kidding.”

They both turned at the sound of a new voice. Anakin had poked his head into the tent and was staring at Qui-Gon with wide eyes.

“Master, move! I wanna see too.” Ahsoka pushed Anakin the rest of the way into the tent and followed close behind, staring at Qui-Gon curiously.

Qui-Gon stood and bowed respectfully, “Padawan Learner Qui-Gon Jinn, though going by your faces it seems we may already know each other.” He turned and held out a hand in an offer to help Obi-Wan up.

Blushing, – and he certainly seemed to be doing a fair amount of _that_ all of a sudden – Obi-Wan accepted his hand. He was almost tempted to make a childish comment about not being so old as to need help standing, but that wouldn’t be very becoming of a Master to say to a Padawan, now would it?

Anakin watched them with an odd look in his eyes. Before he could say anything though, Ahsoka butted in, darting around her master to greet Qui-Gon.

“Ahsoka Tano. I’m a Padawan, too! I don’t get a chance to see other Padawans very often!” She offered Qui-Gon a brilliant smile, almost vibrating with excitement at the chance to meet a new face.

Anakin was still staring, “This is so weird. What are we supposed to do with him, Master?” Like Qui-Gon was a stray loth-cat that had wandered into the camp and not an unprecedented anomaly in the Force.

Obi-Wan fought the urge to roll his eyes at Anakin’s tactless questions, “What can we do, Anakin? The Council is going to try and look through the archives for answers, but in the meantime, we still have a war to fight. I suppose we’ll just have to try and keep Padawan Jinn safe with us until we can take the time to return to Coruscant.”

Qui-Gon, serene as ever, quirked a brow at Obi-Wan, “You seem far too young to already be a Grandmaster, Master Kenobi. You must be quite an exceptional Jedi.” He had to tilt his head down to look at Obi-Wan, playful delight dancing in his clear blue eyes.

Anakin blinked slowly and looked between the pair with the same odd expression. He poorly stifled a grin, “Oh yes, Obi-Wan is _quite_ exceptional. The pride of the Jedi Order.”

If not for his flawless, calm façade, Obi-Wan would have kicked Anakin in the shins for his teasing. As it was, he couldn’t quite manage to suppress the flush that turned the tips of his ears pink. “That’s quite enough flattery from _you_ , Knight Skywalker.”

Anakin bowed mockingly, openly grinning now, “Of course, Master. We’ll leave you two alone then to get some…” His eyes flicked between them meaningfully, “Rest.” Before Obi-Wan could recover and snap at Anakin, he was already backing out of the tent, “C’mon, Snips. Big day tomorrow, lots of clankers to destroy, people to save.”

Ahsoka seemed startled at their sudden departure, but didn’t argue with her Master, following after Anakin as he fled Obi-Wan’s ire and sending one last wave over her shoulder at them as she went. “Bye, Obi-Wan! It was nice to meet you, Qui-Gon!”

The sky outside was already dark, Obi-Wan had spent more time speaking to the Council and then just sitting with Qui-Gon than he’d realized. It was far more pleasant than he’d ever admit aloud, just being able to sit quietly in the glow of his old Master’s Force signature again. He’d missed it more than words could describe.

He offered Qui-Gon a small smile, “I’ll ask one of the troopers to bring a spare sleep mat. Do you mind sharing a tent with me for the night? I’m sure we can set you up with one of your own sometime tomorrow.”

Qui-Gon absently fiddled with the end of his Padawan braid, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, there’s no need. I don’t mind sleeping with you, Master.”

Obi-Wan once again found himself rendered mute. He stared up at Qui-Gon with startled, wide eyes before he regained composure and turned away. Deciding to ignore the Padawan’s words, he fumbled to grab his comlink. “Right. I’ll just com Commander Cody and ask him to bring that sleeping mat then, shall I?” He didn’t wait for a reply, ducking out of the tent to try and put a bit of space between them.

He truly had no idea what he was doing. Obi-Wan honestly wasn’t even sure he’d fully processed what was happening in the first place, but the unexpected flirting threw his scattered mind even further off track. He should meditate on it, release this confusing swirl of emotions into the force and try and regain his balance, but how was he supposed to meditate when he was sharing such close quarters with Qui-Gon?

Obi-Wan had never seen what his master had looked like as a Padawan. Of course, he still looked like _himself_ , but for some reason he’d never considered that his regal, composed Master was once a smooth-faced, short-haired Padawan. A Padawan that apparently had no problem shamelessly flirting with one of the first people he’d seen, absolutely no regard for the potential severity of the situation he’d suddenly found himself in.

He wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ known his master to flirt. Certainly not with _him._ No, the master he’d known was entirely free with casual touches and almost worryingly unconcerned with modesty, but he’d never shown any sort of interest like _that_ in Obi-Wan.

It was a poorly kept secret amongst his agemates when Obi-Wan was a Padawan that he’d had a terrible crush on his Master. Quinlan had teased him relentlessly for it. He’d spent nearly all of his years as Qui-Gon’s Padawan an embarrassed, blushing mess. Did his master really have to walk around their quarters without a shirt all of the time? Or pull Obi-Wan into a hug every time he returned from his temple classes for the day? By the time he’d turned sixteen, Obi-Wan was the best of all the other Padawans at shielding his thoughts. More out of necessity than anything else. Qui-Gon was probably somewhat disappointed that Obi-Wan insisted on shielding his side of the bond so thoroughly all of the time, but Obi-Wan could _never_ let his Master know the way his Padawan was thinking about him.

He was unsure how to navigate this suddenly requited attraction. Obviously, he couldn’t _act_ on it in any way – talk about potentially damaging the timeline – not to mention the ethical ramifications of a Jedi Master bedding a Padawan. Oh Force, and now he couldn’t seem to get _that_ particular idea out of his head.

What was wrong with him? He certainly shouldn’t be focused on that sort of thing, with all that was going on. He’d just have to clear his mind and focus on finding a way to safely return Qui-Gon to his proper time. And keep him from getting injured in the war. And keep Qui-Gon from learning that they were on opposite sides of the war with his Master. And keep him from learning how his own death had taken place.

Force. Why did these things always have to happen to Obi-Wan?

He commed Cody to have someone bring a bedroll to his tent. There were, unfortunately, plenty to spare after the previous day’s battle.

Sleep evaded Obi-Wan. He lay on his back, hands clasped to rest on his chest. Qui-Gon lay only an arm’s width away, so close Obi-Wan could reach out and touch him if he so desired to. He was hyper-aware of each slow, peaceful breath the other man took. Surely Qui-Gon hadn’t needed to set up his bed so close to Obi-Wan’s? But, then, Obi-Wan hadn’t exactly discouraged it, had he?

He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. At this rate, he’d give himself a terrible stress headache by the time morning came.

“You can’t sleep either, Master?” Came a low voice in the darkness.

Obi-Wan jumped a bit in surprise. He hadn’t noticed the Padawan was still awake. “Ah, it would seem so, Padawan. Did I wake you?”

Qui-Gon hummed, turning onto his side to face Obi-Wan. “No, Master. I can’t seem to quiet my mind’s worries. What if I am unable to return to my own time? And I know I’m not supposed to ask for any details that may affect the timeline, but what happened to Master Dooku?”

Sighing quietly, Obi-Wan shifted to face Qui-Gon as well. “You know I can’t tell you anything, dear one. All I can say is, if it is the will of the Force that you stay here, I will do all I can to keep you safe. There is war here, and I can’t keep the ones I care about entirely out of harm’s way – no matter how much I wish it – but I will do my best to protect you.”

A rustling sound in the dark as Qui-Gon rose. Before Obi-Wan could protest, the Padawan had already pushed his sleeping mat flush with Obi-Wan’s and crawled back under his blankets. A heavy arm wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist and pulled him close until his body was tucked half under Qui-Gon’s. He stiffened at the unexpected contact, but Qui-Gon only sent a wave of warmth across their bond and rested his head on Obi-Wan’s chest. Long legs pushed their way under Obi-Wan’s blankets to tangle with his.

“You don’t mind, do you, Master? I find I sleep better when I’m close with someone.”

Obi-Wan was certain his rapid heartbeat must be terribly obvious to Qui-Gon, whose ear rested just above it. He carded a slightly shaky hand through Qui-Gon’s short hair, “Surely Master Dooku isn’t too keen on cuddling?” Was all he could think to say.

Qui-Gon’s rumbling laughter echoed through Obi-Wan’s own ribcage, “No, certainly not, Master. I only figured, since I was… or will be, I suppose, _your_ Master, that we might’ve done this before. Is it alright?”

They had. Of course, they had. After the events of Bandomeer, Obi-Wan had become a terribly clingy child, plagued with nightmares and separation anxiety. His Master had allowed him to crawl into bed with him any time he’d come knocking in the middle of the night seeking reassurance. Pulling aside the covers and wrapping a strong, protective arm around him. Even after Obi-Wan had gotten too old for such things, he’d still sneak into his Master’s bed after the occasional particularly awful mission and wrap himself in the other man’s comforting presence. Qui-Gon never stopped him or told Obi-Wan he was getting too old for such things. He’d always suspected his Master enjoyed the close quarters just as much as he did.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to enjoy the contact, then. He hadn’t held someone so close probably since his Master had passed. Anakin had slept in his bed a handful of times in the months after his arrival at the temple when he had nightmares, but he’d stayed firmly on his side of the bed and had stopped coming to Obi-Wan for comfort before too long. It was nice to just be close to someone.

He gently stroked the nape of Qui-Gon’s neck, resting an arm around Qui-Gon’s shoulders to hold him closer. “Yes. It’s just fine, dear one.”

-

Obi-Wan woke feeling better rested than he could remember being in months, maybe years. His sleep-fogged mind only registered a feeling of warmth and safety and he burrowed closer to the source of it, jumping in surprise when soft laughter met his actions.

“It’s time to wake up, Master. As much as I’d like to stay like this.”

He opened his eyes to the broad expanse of Qui-Gon’s bare chest, a strong, steady heartbeat beneath his ear. Somehow in the night, they’d traded positions and now Obi-Wan lay almost entirely on top of Qui-Gon, the other man’s arms wrapped tightly around him.

Heat flushed his entire body when he felt the weight pressing against his hip, only serving to make him entirely too aware of his own er… problem. There was no way Qui-Gon hadn’t felt it, too.

Obi-Wan tensed and pulled himself away from Qui-Gon a little too quickly to seem casual. He made sure he was entirely on his own sleeping mat and out of Qui-Gon’s personal space. “I apologize, Padawan. That was… inappropriate of me.” Force, he couldn’t even look at Qui-Gon!

Qui-Gon stretched languidly, long muscles flexing as he moved the heaviness of sleep out of each limb. He drew himself up into a kneeling position, “Don’t apologize, Master. I quite enjoyed it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t draw himself out of his mortification well enough to form a reply.

“Would you join me in meditation, Master? It’s important to ground ourselves before facing a new day, after all.”

Several days passed relatively quietly. Each night Qui-Gon would drag his sleeping mat back over to Obi-Wan’s, and each morning they’d wake in some variation of hopelessly tangled together. Obi-Wan knew he should’ve put a stop to it, but it was far too nice to be back in Qui-Gon’s presence. He didn’t have the strength to end it. They would meditate after they woke, choke down their rations for breakfast, and Qui-Gon would follow Obi-Wan around as he went about his duties for the day.

The Separatists had ceased their ground attack for the moment and temporarily retreated. They’d received word that Count Dooku had gone off planet. Obi-Wan and the 212th had received instructions to return to the Negotiator to regroup and stay close by in case of another attack while the 501st went in pursuit of Count Dooku.

Qui-Gon looked every bit his young age as their transport approached the Negotiator, eyes wide as he took in the sheer size of the Venator-Class Star Destroyer.

“This is your ship?”

“It is.”

The younger man seemed to pale a bit, “Must be quite a war.”

A frown tugged at Obi-Wan’s mouth and he turned to look at the Negotiator as well, “It is.” He said, quieter.

There was enough room on the Negotiator for Qui-Gon to have his own quarters. The ones across the hall from his own meant for a potential Padawan that a Knight or a Master might have in tow. They hadn’t been used but for the brief time Anakin had claimed them at the start of the war.

He hated how disappointed he was not to have Qui-Gon so close by anymore, even though he was barely a short walk away.

Sleep was harder to find. Obi-Wan would normally sleep better aboard the Negotiator than planetside, where he and his troops were much more vulnerable, but he felt terribly alone. Sure, Jedi Masters weren’t supposed to let such ridiculous things as _loneliness_ trouble their minds, but he couldn’t seem to let it go. He lay atop his covers, wide awake, scrolling through the files sent to his datapad from the temple. There was a severe lack of information on the subject of time travel, but he read through one account they’d found in the archives from over a hundred years ago documenting a suspected occurrence of the force sending a Knight forward in time a couple of days. Not exactly what they were looking for, but as close as anyone seemed to be able to find.

A knock sounded at his door.

Obi-Wan glanced up, surely nobody else was awake at this hour? “Come in.”

The door slid open the reveal Qui-Gon. Shirtless Qui-Gon. His Padawan braid fell almost to his waist. “Sorry to disturb you, Master. I couldn’t sleep.”

Obi-Wan set aside his datapad, “Nothing to apologize for, Padawan. I wasn’t able to find rest either. Please, come in.”

Qui-Gon entered his quarters, having to duck slightly to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe. “Could I sleep in here with you, Master?”

Rather than reply, not trusting what he might say, Obi-Wan slid over at much as the narrow cot allowed and pulled back the covers, mirroring the way his Master had done the same for him so many years ago. Qui-Gon rushed to fill the space, tugging the covers back further so Obi-Wan could maneuver his own body beneath the blankets as well.

They turned the little light he’d had on while he was reading off, and Qui-Gon’s arms wrapped comfortably around Obi-Wan once more. Unlike the previous times they’d slept close to one another, Obi-Wan’s chest was bare. He hadn’t exactly been expecting company after all. Now their bare skin pressed against one another, warm and electrifying. Obi-Wan’s bed was much smaller than the two sleeping mats they’d previously had. Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan’s body almost entirely atop his own so that they were laying chest to chest. His long legs bent awkwardly to try and fit on the mattress, fitting on either side of Obi-Wan’s. It should’ve been uncomfortable. It wasn’t.

“I’m not sure this bed was made for two.” Obi-Wan tried to joke to distract himself from the way his hips fit so snuggly against Qui-Gon’s.

Qui-Gon brought his hands up to frame either side of Obi-Wan’s face, stroking his beard and angling them so they were looking at one another in the darkness. “I think it’s perfect.”

Warm lips pressed against Obi-Wan’s. The kiss was relatively chaste, but it filled Obi-Wan with a searing heat. His hands scrabbled for purchase at Qui-Gon’s shoulders and he couldn’t help but lean into the kiss before his mind caught up with his actions.

Gently, in an attempt to save Qui-Gon’s feelings, he pulled away from the kiss. “Padawan, we can’t –“

“Please, call me Qui-Gon, Master.” Qui-Gon seemed unfazed by Obi-Wan’s attempt at rejection.

Obi-Wan made a desperate sort of sound and rested his forehead against the smooth skin of Qui-Gon’s chest, “Qui-Gon.” He corrected himself, “We can’t do this. It’s inappropriate. I mean, Force! You call me ‘Master’. Can’t you see why we can’t do this?”

A large hand ran through his hair soothingly, “You called me ‘Master’ at one time as well, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan couldn’t hide the shudder that wracked him when he heard this Qui-Gon speak his name for the first time in that familiar voice. “It’s not wrong. Does it feel wrong?”

His fingers twitched against Qui-Gon’s shoulders, curling in like he was trying to make a fist. Obi-Wan spoke in a sort of ragged sob, “No. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels everything but.”

When he was pulled back into a kiss, he didn’t fight it. Contentment sung through their bond, and Obi-Wan couldn’t tell which one of them it had come from. He took better control of the kiss, pushing himself up and over Qui-Gon with one hand and cupping the Padawan’s face with the other.

The kiss deepened, tongues meeting to slide against each other. Qui-Gon made a sound deep in his chest, a sort of animalistic growling sound that prickled Obi-Wan’s flesh. It was all the warning he got before he was suddenly grabbed around the waist and their positions were flipped. His back hit the mattress and they bounced slightly as the springs bore their combined weight once again.

Qui-Gon grabbed both of Obi-Wan’s wrists and held them firm at either side of Obi-Wan’s head. He never broke their kiss, hungrily devouring Obi-Wan’s mouth and hardly letting him come up for air. He fit their hips back together and rolled his body flush with Obi-Wan’s, the thin layer of cloth between their cocks doing nothing to hide either man’s obvious hardness from the other.

Obi-Wan gasped, an embarrassing moan escaping him at the nearly overwhelming pleasure coursing through their bond. It was as if he could feel everything Qui-Gon felt along with his own arousal. He’d never felt anything like it.

When Qui-Gon finally gave him space to breathe he couldn’t help the brief moment of hysteria that overtook him, he let his head fall back and looked up at the ceiling behind Qui-Gon. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He really shouldn’t be letting this happen –

His thoughts were abruptly derailed as Qui-Gon latched onto his throat, sucking at the delicate skin behind his ear in a way that would surely leave bruises if it were continued. In Qui-Gon’s moment of distraction, Obi-Wan was able to slip his hands free and explore the taut planes of Qui-Gon’s broad back, pulling the Padawan closer still.

“Qui-Gon.” He tried to get his attention, barely able to maintain any coherency of his own, “Wait a moment, dear one. Have you ever done this before?”

Qui-Gon took his time finishing the mark he was trying to leave on Obi-Wan before he deigned to reply, “No, Master.”

Force, Qui-Gon was really going to have to stop calling Obi-Wan ‘Master’ if they were going to keep doing this. Never mind the way it sent heat curling through Obi-Wan’s belly ever time he’d heard the younger man call him that.

“We don’t have to do anything, Padawan.” He probably shouldn’t be calling Qui-Gon that when they were like this, “We can stop anytime you like, just say the word.”

Qui-Gon shook his head and looked at Obi-Wan with wide eyes, “No, Master, please. I really would like to do this.” He palmed Obi-Wan’s erection and smiled at the noise the Jedi Master made, “Do you want to?”

Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to Qui-Gon’s jaw, returning the favor and pressing his hips up against Qui-Gon’s. “Force help me, I really do.”

He kissed Qui-Gon once more before he could speak, smiling when Qui-Gon tried to chase after his lips as he pulled back again.

“You’re going to have to let me up for a moment, dear one. You’ll want to make sure and do this safely, so I’ll show you what we need to do to prepare, alright?” Qui-Gon reluctantly let Obi-Wan up and watched curiously as the older man went into the fresher.

Obi-Wan returned promptly with the bottle of lube in hand, a soft blush dusting his cheeks as he showed Qui-Gon what’d he’d gone looking for. “I wouldn’t recommend attempting this without lubricant and adequate preparation, it’s not terribly fun for either party that way.”

He stepped out of his remaining clothes and settled back on the bed beside Qui-Gon, flicking the cap open with a click that seemed too loud in the quiet between them.

Qui-Gon took a moment to take in the sight of Obi-Wan completely bared to him, nodding to show he had heard what the Master had said, “Which one of us is going to uh…” He turned a bit pink in the dim light emanating from the open fresher door.

Obi-Wan smiled gently and scooted back to sit against the headboard, spreading his legs to rest on either side of Qui-Gon. “I think for your first time it would be best if I demonstrated on myself, yes?”

That, and Obi-Wan had been dreaming about having Qui-Gon’s cock inside of him since he’d known that was even a thing that people did. Not that he’d ever tell another living soul such a thing.

Qui-Gon could only nod and watch as Obi-Wan spread a generous amount of the lube onto his fingers. Obi-wan made sure to be patient as he stretched himself one finger at a time. As desperate as he was to be ready, it was important that Qui-Gon was shown the proper way to do this.

Qui-Gon didn’t seem to have any problem just watching Obi-Wan though, hands fisted in the crumpled blankets beneath them and gaze locked on the sight of Obi-Wan’s fingers disappearing into himself.

Obi-Wan’s head thumped back against the headboard as he moved his hand a certain way, moaning a bit louder than he meant to, “Come closer, dear one, let me show you.” He slicked up Qui-Gon’s fingers and guided them inside, one at a time and just as torturously slow as he’d done to himself. Then, he directed Qui-Gon’s touch to the bundle of nerves he’d brushed against before, not even trying to hold back the shuddering sigh at the feeling.

Through their bond, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan’s enjoyment almost as if it were his own. Accidentally, their training bond was proving to be an excellent teaching device in this instance. Without needing any further direction from Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon rubbed to spot once again, eyes glittering in delight at the noises he earned from the oh-so-stoic Master.

“That’s probably enough, dear one. As much as I’d love to keep doing that, I think you’ll enjoy this next bit even more.” He motioned for Qui-Gon to get up and finish disrobing, moving back down to lay flat on the bed, “Now, if you were in my position, it’d probably be more comfortable for your first time to be up on your hands and knees, or laying on your stomach with a pillow under your hips. As it stands, I’d much prefer to be able to look at you while we’re doing this.”

Qui-Gon settled back on the mattress between Obi-Wan’s open thighs, taking the offered bottle of lube and coating his cock with it.

Obi-Wan took a moment to appreciate the sight he made, kneeling between his legs, bared entirely to him. He’d imagined Qui-Gon’s cock a frankly ridiculous number of times, and of course he’d known it was going to be big, but _Force_.

When it pressed into him, it seemed even bigger. Certainly bigger than any time Obi-Wan had done this with others in the past. “Slowly, dear one. You want to let your partner get used to you. You’re a fair bit bigger than just fingers.”

The groan Qui-Gon gave when he finally sunk all the way inside Obi-Wan would forever be seared into his memory. He echoed it with a moan of his own, panting as they had to pause for a moment, both overwhelmed by the feelings enhanced by the bond.

Qui-Gon began to thrust, one hand coming up to wrap around Obi-Wan’s length and the other to hold his hip, grip undoubtedly leaving behind a bruise they’d find in the morning. The smothered each other’s moans with their mouths, hot, wet kisses spilling over to the corners of their lips and pressed along each other’s chins, noses, and cheeks. Anywhere their lips could reach, glistening saliva left behind in their wake.

Qui-Gon lasted a surprisingly long time, considering this – this overwhelming, unexpected addition of their training bond into the mix – was his first time. He barely managed to offer Obi-Wan a warning before he came, hips jerking forward in one last thrust that Obi-Wan was sure to feel for the next few days at least.

The euphoria through their bond was almost blinding in its intensity and immediately swept Obi-Wan up in it. He came right after Qui-Gon, spilling across his own stomach and Qui-Gon’s hands with a strangled shout.

They both took a moment to ride the aftershocks, Qui-Gon barely managed to pull out and sweep Obi-Wan back up against his chest as he lay down on the cot.

“That was…” Qui-Gon trailed off.

Obi-Wan laughed, breathless, “Yes, it was.”

They lay there together a moment before Obi-Wan managed to collect himself enough to sit up and untangle himself from Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon mumbled a half-hearted protest, trying to pull Obi-Wan back.

He evaded Qui-Gon’s attempts to recapture him and stood, “Just a moment, dear one. I just have to get something to clean us off with.”

Obi-Wan retrieved a damp cloth from the fresher, blushing at his awkward gait and the warmth that dribbled down his inner thighs as he walked. He wiped the both of them down and let the cloth drop to the floor, too exhausted to worry about it any further than that.

He allowed Qui-Gon to snake his arms back around his waist, snagging the blankets as he lay back down and pulling them back up to cover them. Obi-Wan didn’t protest as he was maneuvered back across Qui-Gon’s chest, only smiling as he lay his head over the other man’s chest and drifted off to sleep with the steady rhythm of Qui-Gon’s heart as his lullaby.

-

They woke to the shrill chirping of Obi-Wan’s com unit.

Qui-Gon groaned and tightened his hold on Obi-Wan, “Ugh, do you _have_ to answer it?”

Obi-Wan managed to prop himself up enough to survey the room with blurry eyes, scanning for the source of that Force-forsaken noise. The com was across the room, perched atop his folded robes from the previous day.

He grimaced and slowly set about standing to go and answer it, “Yes, dear one. I _have_ to answer it, I’m afraid. I do have _some_ responsibilities as a General and Council member.”

Qui-Gon stifled a laugh as he watched Obi-Wan hobble across the floor to pick up the device, “Are you sore, Master?”

Obi-Wan shot a scowl over his shoulder as he picked up the com, “Only a little, Padawan.”

His tone became more serious, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His gaze flickered down to the soft smattering of purple bruises that painted Obi-Wan’s hip.

“No, dear one. You certainly didn’t hurt me, you were perfect.” Obi-Wan’s smile froze when he saw who had tried to com. “Ah, apparently I’m meant to holo Mace. He says Jocasta may have found something regarding your… predicament.”

It turned out that they had managed to find a report of a similar situation occurring. A Force-sensitive shaman of a tribe indigenous to the planet they had found Qui-Gon on had told a visiting Jedi Knight some two hundred years ago about her experience meditating in the holy temple. She had traveled back in time several years to when her mate had still been living and had been able to speak with him again by the will of the Force. When she had been ready to return to her time, she only had to return to her meditation in the same place on the temple grounds and ask that the Force guide her back to where she belonged. The Jedi Knight had reported hearing stories of several other shamans throughout the tribe’s history that had accomplished similar feats, all able to commune with what they called their soul’s mates across different points in time.

“I suppose the Force recognized our training bond as being similar to the bonds forged between the local Force-sensitives who used to inhabit the area.” They had returned to the surface of the planet and were walking across the barren fields that had once been an ancient forest.

Qui-Gon matched his pace with Obi-Wan, stubbornly keeping hold of the Master’s hand as they trekked towards the remnants of the temple ruins where Qui-Gon had been found. “I wish I didn’t have to go.” The Padawan said quietly, eyes trained on their feet as they walked.

Obi-Wan squeezed Qui-Gon’s hand, “I wish you didn’t have to go either, Padawan.” He offered a weak smile, “But you have to return. To become a Knight, and then a Master. And then you have to train me and help me to become a Jedi. It’s not really goodbye, then, is it?”

They stopped just as the ruins came into sight, nothing now but cracked grey boulders dotting the landscape.

“But it’s goodbye for you, Master. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.” Qui-Gon tugged Obi-Wan into a hug, resting his chin atop the shorter man’s head.

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon’s waist and stroked his back soothingly, “I’ll see you again, dear one. It’s not really goodbye. I’ll see you in the force when it’s my time to join you there.”

Qui-Gon reluctantly guided them to the spot where Waxer and Boil had found him, catching Obi-Wan’s chin to guide him into one last, chaste kiss before he kneeled in a meditative posture.

Obi-Wan kneeled opposite him, scanning the features of Qui-Gon’s face as if he could commit him to memory.

Blue eyes shined with unshed tears, “Until then, Obi-Wan.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. He smiled, pushing all his love and warmth for Qui-Gon across their bond, “Until then, Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip into meditation, that strange, foreign presence he’d felt touch his mind before returning. The Force around this place was strange, sentient somehow. It wrapped his consciousness in an aura of calming light, pulling him deeper into his mind just as it had before.

Around them, Obi-Wan watched as glyphs burned gold across grey stone and red dirt. The Force seemed to swell and fill the air. A breeze fluttered across the grass and through their hair. He found it difficult to keep looking at Qui-Gon, like trying to look directly at a star. Obi-Wan was forced to blink, and when he reopened his eyes, Qui-Gon had vanished.

He sat there a moment, staring at the place Qui-Gon had knelt. Their bond had gone quiet once again, but unlike before, it didn’t hurt to focus on.

-

Many years later, as a red saber cut him down, Obi-Wan felt a presence appear in the Force behind him. 

Looking exactly as he had on Naboo, was his Master.

Qui-Gon smiled kindly, waiting as Obi-Wan took in the familiar creases of his face, his long flowing hair, his hands folded patiently into the sleeves of his robe.

“Master?”

“Hello, Obi-Wan.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was just supposed to be like 3k... Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Leave me a comment letting me know what you think, and come chat with me on [Tumblr!](https://antimatics.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I have several QuiObi AUs in the works, hoping to post one each week!
> 
> Also, thank you to my fantastic [friend for helping me make this fic happen!](https://www.tumblr.com/safe-mode?url=https%3A%2F%2Fsynergy-is-snape-and-energy-bar.tumblr.com%2F)


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